Lava Lamps
by Ava Miranda Dakedavra
Summary: "What're you doing on the floor?" He shrugged and looked back at the lava lamp, "Thinking."


George was completely aware that there was no reason he should be staring at it. Most people saw it every day and didn't sit on the floor and look at it as if it were the most mesmerizing thing on the planet. But there he was, sitting on the wood floor, the room completely dark aside from the orange glow that was directly in front of him as he rested his back against the mattress, clad only in shorts.

The lava floated up in little circles, hitting the top of the lamp before floating back down to heat up and do the same thing over and over again. He just sat and stared at it.

It'd been nearly a year. Nearly a year since he lost his twin brother. He wondered sometimes if he should still be in mourning. He wondered others if he should've stopped mourning sooner. But either way, now he was moving on. Keeping the store running, still making weekly visits to his mother's house, still talking to his friends.

He was still painfully reminded that he didn't have Fred though. Angelina, Fred's girlfriend before he died, still had mascara tracks under her eyes from all of the people she lost, but she growled at them more frequently and exclaimed that they would _not_ come off no matter how much she scrubbed at her face. Lee, his and Fred's best friend, would roll his eyes at his girlfriend and smile a little, although he was feeling incredibly guilty that he'd taken his best friend's girl, but would tell her to just stop wearing the makeup. Kids would come in and would never know that, yes, George had had an identical twin. That made him even sadder. That, later on, people wouldn't remember Fred.

The lava had all pooled at the bottom once more, slowly rising up and breaking off to continue on with the cycle.

He'd smiled at Ginny's wedding though. He was proud of his little sister. Proud that she still looked strong and tough in what was probably _the _most elegant and gracefully girly thing he'd ever seen her wear. He laughed when she did the running man before throwing the bouquet – aiming for Ron's head and pouting when it messed, but cheering when it landed in Hermione's drink.

George was still laughing when he cleaned Hermione's dress for her as she blushed and glared at the bundle of flowers. When he asked her what was wrong, she only frowned more at the plants.

"I wasn't finished drinking that," she told him, making him laugh again.

The lava floated down, as it had cooled. He wondered why he was still sitting there, as there was a very warm bed that he was leaning on. But he didn't move.

When Ginny had been in labor, she'd been hanging out with George. He had, naturally, freaked out and Floo'd Hermione, who came at once to help her friend to Mungo's. They'd called Kingsley and told him to get hold of Harry – the Dashing Auror, as George had called him once or twice – to tell him he was going to be a father. Hermione had made her lip bleed as she let Ginny clutch her hand, George slowly trying not to crumple to the floor as he held her other one until Harry came.

Hermione had flopped into the chair next to George's, both of them breathing heavily and wincing as they rubbed their sore appendages. She blew a piece of her hair out of her face, as it had fallen out of her up-do long ago, and turned to George with a sheepish smile. "You wouldn't, by any chance, have any room at the store, would you?"

He blinked at her and looked at her in confusion, "Yes, but why?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes, "When you called me, I was in the middle of arguing with my boss about house elf rights. He told me that if I stepped foot out of my office I was fired. Guess who doesn't have an office anymore?"

He glared, not at her but at the mental image of her boss, and called him a few very nasty names under his breath. She'd laughed and agreed and thanked him for allowing her to work for him.

George had rolled his eyes and grinned back down at her, "Really, I should be the one who's thanking you for even wanting to work with me."

She'd laughed at that.

Ginny and Harry had named George and Hermione the godparents of James Sirius Potter, which made Hermione coo and George grin like a madman. They both decided that they were going to love that kid to death.

George heard rustling overhead, tilting his head up to twitch his mouth into a small smile as she peeked over the edge of the bed.

"What're you doing on the floor?" Hermione questioned in a whisper, pulling her hair back behind her ear as she tugged the sheets to her chest.

He shrugged and looked back at the lava lamp, "Thinking."

She leaned over, placing her lips on his forehead to make him tilt his head back up to her and smile a little, "Everything'll be alright, George."

"I know," he muttered.

"If anything, I bet he's wondering right now why you aren't in bed," she grinned as he chuckled, "No, wait, that's me."

"It's orange," he said, tilting his head as she sigh and yanked the blanket off of her bed, wrapping it around her and slipping down to the floor next to him.

"Yes, it's orange," she smiled as she rested against his shoulder, making him wrap his arm around her to bring her closer, "I like the color orange."

"It doesn't match anything in your room," he noticed.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around his torso, "My mum got it for me when I was twelve. I was heartbroken when I figured out I couldn't take it to Hogwarts."

He winced and glanced back down at her, watching as her eyes followed the lava. He pecked her nose, making her smile a little, "We both lost a lot."

"Yeah," she leaned heavier into him, "It's great when you want to think though. Just sit here and stare at it."

He hummed into her hair and smiled, running his hands through the curls.

He liked lava lamps just a bit more now.


End file.
